


beyond the sycamore trees

by meridies



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Birthday Presents, Family Dynamics, Fluff, Gen, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:34:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28890711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meridies/pseuds/meridies
Summary: When their eldest brother is assigned to work a ten hour shift on his birthday, Techno decides that he, Wilbur, and Tommy will do all they can to make Phil's day better.
Relationships: Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Technoblade
Comments: 36
Kudos: 620





	beyond the sycamore trees

**Author's Note:**

  * For [unrequited_heartbreak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unrequited_heartbreak/gifts).



> here's some soft family dynamic after the dsmp finale today wrecked me. this fic was inspired by the lovely sav (apologies it took so long to write), hope you enjoy!! <3

Sunday afternoons in the Watson household did not tend to be exciting. 

They were often filled with reruns of old comedy specials, music played far too loudly for the thin apartment walls, hours of poring over English books and calculus homework, and cheap pizza for dinner. Techno liked the routine of Sundays. It was simple. It was quiet. 

This Sunday, however, was different.

There were two reasons for it. The first was that Techno’s older brother, Phil, was working. Phil was the eldest of them (there were four, all living in the apartment— Phil, Techno, Wilbur, and Tommy) and therefore Phil was the most responsible. He worked two jobs, one at the supermarket two bus stops away, and the other at the burger place on Rosewood Avenue. He usually tried to keep Sundays free, but his manager at the supermarket had told Phil with stern words that due to traffic or rush or whatever— Techno hadn’t really paid attention to the phone call— he had to work. So Phil had woken up early Sunday morning, tried his best to not wake the rest of them up as disappointing as it was, and vanished.

The other reason why this Sunday was different was because it was Phil’s birthday. 

He was turning twenty one. Techno knew, even though he wasn’t even eighteen yet, that twenty-one was supposed to be a large birthday. There was supposed to be drinking— even if Phil didn’t like it— and bar hopping and flashing your ID at a bartender for the first time, just to hear them say that it was okay for you to order a drink. 

But Phil wasn’t doing any of that. Instead, he was working a ten hour shift just to keep his three siblings afloat. He wouldn’t be getting the twenty-first birthday experience that he should be getting. 

Techno mused on this when he woke up, at nearly one in the afternoon. Techno’s mouth tasted gummy and his eyes were stuck together with sleep. Strips of sunlight poured through the blinds, striping themselves over his bottom bunk. Slowly, with jagged, achy movements, Techno pulled himself out of bed.

Wilbur and Tommy were both already awake, and they were clustered around the television; Tommy in the squashy armchair, Wilbur with his legs stretched across the sofa. 

“He awakens,” Wilbur said monotonously. Techno was too tired to respond. He merely raised a middle finger.

“That’s not very nice.”

“Don’t care,” Techno muttered. He swung open their fridge and peered inside. “Who finished the milk?”

Tommy raised a hand unashamedly. Techno scowled in his direction. 

“That’s not very nice,” he said. “We had half of the carton left.”

“I was hungry,” Tommy said. “And Phil got Lucky Charms yesterday.”

Wilbur wrinkled his nose. “Lucky Charms are the only cereal that’s better _without_ milk.”

“Only if there’s still marshmallows in it,” Tommy retorted, “And _someone_ ate all of those.”

Wilbur valiantly suppressed a grin. He turned his attention back to the box television and turned the volume up. Techno winced. 

“Turn it down,” he said.

Wilbur purposely turned it up. “Is that better?”

“Asshole.”

“Dipshit.”

“Nerd.”

“Bitch!”

That last one came from Tommy. _Very eloquent,_ Techno thought, and didn’t bother responding. He closed the fridge and instead fished out the last two slices of (admittedly, quite stale) bread. The toaster smelled uncomfortably like smoke and Techno hoped it didn’t light on fire like the last one they had. 

“What’s the plan for today?” Techno asked, when he was certain that his toast wasn’t going to explode.

Wilbur paused the television. The comedy rerun stilled, right on a freeze frame of someone’s smiling face. 

“I don’t know,” he admitted. His awkwardness and Tommy’s silence told Techno that they were all thinking about the same thing. It didn’t feel quite right to celebrate Phil’s birthday or even have fun on the weekend without their eldest sibling there. 

Birthdays in the Watson household were not a big deal. Phil _said_ that he didn’t want to celebrate his birthday, even though Techno knew well enough he would appreciate enjoying it a bit more. Techno genuinely would rather curl into a ball and vanish than have to suffer the ordeal of everyone singing _h_ _appy birthday_ while he stood awkwardly around a cake. Wilbur was at the point in his life where he only wanted gifts and nothing else, and Tommy was at the point in his life where he only wanted cake and nothing else. Therefore, birthdays for their small family tended to be quiet.

But twenty-one was a big deal. And though none of them would admit it out loud, Phil was a big deal as well.

It wasn’t that they weren’t appreciative of everything Phil had done for them. Sometimes, however, it was difficult not to feel guilty about it. Phil had dropped out of college to take care of the three of them, even when it plunged him into student debt. Techno in particular was both very grateful and shameful about it. He knew that his chance to continue onto higher education was purely because Phil had sacrificed his. 

Tommy shifted. “When does he get back from work?”

“Late,” Wilbur said bluntly.

“How late?”

“It’s all day,” Techno said. “I heard the phone call yesterday.”

“The manager wouldn’t let him take a day off even for his birthday?”

Techno shook his head. Tommy looked sorrowful. He ducked his head and muttered something incomprehensible. 

Wilbur raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing,” Tommy mumbled.

Techno’s toast popped out of the toaster with a ding. He seized it even though it scalded his hands.

“You said something,” Wilbur repeated, “What was it?”

“Nothing!” Tommy protested, and his face went red, “I was just thinking—”

“Congratulations,” Techno said mildly. “You finally had a thought.”

Tommy glowered. “Fuck off. I was thinking we should do something for Phil.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know,” Tommy muttered, “That’s why I didn’t say it very loud.” 

“You’re stupid,” Wilbur sighed, and Tommy’s mouth fell open in outrage. 

The two of them continued to bicker. Techno tuned them out, was very grateful that there wasn’t additional noise from the television to add onto it, and considered the idea of doing something for Phil. Maybe he would appreciate them doing something for his birthday, just this once. It was unfair that he had to work so hard while the three of them had the day completely free.

“I have an idea,” Techno said, and when neither Wilbur nor Tommy stopped their argument to listen, repeated louder, “I have an idea. Do you want to do something for his birthday?”

Tommy curled his lip. “As long as I don’t have to do anything with Wilbur.”

That was unlikely, but Techno foraged on regardless. 

“For starters,” he said, “We need to clean out the fridge.” 

“Not me,” Wilbur and Tommy said in unison.

“And clean the house too,” Techno scowled, “Wilbur, your side of the room is a mess.”

“Your idea of a birthday gift is household chores,” Wilbur said dubiously.

“And do the laundry,” Techno said. “The laundromat is cheaper on Sundays.”

Their apartment didn’t have a laundry machine of their own. Thus, doing laundry was quite a hassle; they had to climb down four flights of stairs with full laundry baskets, go across the street, and wait there for the two hours it took to clean all their clothes. Techno enjoyed it; there were all sorts of odd people one might find in a laundromat, and it was wonderful inspiration for whatever stories he was writing at the time. Tommy, however, hated it. Whenever it was his turn to do laundry he always complained relentlessly about it, until Phil looked ready to snap. Then he would duck his head in near-embarrassment and do as he was told. 

“I don’t want to go to the laundromat,” Tommy said instantly.

“That sucks,” Techno said, tone making it very clear he didn’t care. “You can come with me.”

“I hate you.”

“And Wilbur can clean,” Techno said.

Wilbur scowled. “Who made _you_ the boss of everything?”

“I’m the oldest,” Techno said.

“Yeah, by two minutes.”

“Two minutes older,” Techno said, unconcerned, “And I’ll always be two minutes smarter, two minutes faster, two minutes better.”

Wilbur rolled his eyes so far back Techno was surprised he didn’t see right out the back of his head.

“Fine,” Wilbur huffed, “Have fun dealing with Tommy.”

“Hey!” 

“He’s insufferable,” Wilbur continued, and swung his legs from the sofa. The box television was clicked off. “When you come back, the place will be _spotless._ I guarantee it.”

Wilbur guaranteed a lot of things that never came to fruition, but Techno shrugged. He and Tommy might have some fun anyway, sitting in the laundromat across the street. It was nearing one thirty; they had time before Phil got back. 

Within a few minutes, Techno had gathered a basket of his and Wilbur’s laundry, while Tommy balanced the other basket against the railing in the elevator. His expression was sullen, but Techno knew that was just because Tommy liked complaining.

At thirteen years old, Tommy was the youngest in the Watson family and sometimes (although neither Phil, Techno, nor Wilbur would ever admit it out loud) he was the favorite. That was simply a perk of being the youngest. He was nearing the end of eighth grade, heading into his first year of high school, and was all the more insufferable because of it. All eighth graders thought they were on top of the world (but looking back on it, every eighth grader would tell you quite the opposite) and Tommy was no different. He was running into those teenage years of hating his family as well. Techno had been through that, and so had Wilbur. He knew that it was a matter of maturity. Still, looking at the way Tommy scowled down at the pavement, then at the crosswalk, and then at the bells that rang above the laundromat door, he could tell that it would be a while before Tommy grew out of the phase.

Quarters jingled in Techno’s pocket. He inserted two dollars into the machine, poured in half a cup of detergent, and pressed start. Tommy did the same for his washer. Then the two of them sat back, watched the water and bubbles swirl in mesmerizing circles, and said nothing.

Tommy broke the silence first with a despondent, “Do we really have to stay here all two hours?”

“It’s only an hour and a half,” Techno said.

“That’s not what I mean.”

Silence again.

“Wilbur was being a prick this morning.”

Techno sighed. “Wilbur’s always a prick.”

“I think he hates me.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t.” 

“He does,” Tommy insisted, “I heard him talking to his friends about it last week when we were walking home. He called me annoying.”

Techno heaved a deep sigh. He could tell that something had been brewing in Tommy’s mind, but he didn’t want to accidentally confirm his worries by saying that Tommy _was_ annoying. He was only annoying some of the time. 

“Well?” Tommy said. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know,” Tommy muttered, “Phil always tells me that you’re a good person to talk to. I thought you would have something nice to say.”

That was a surprise. Techno wouldn’t consider himself a good talker at all.

Awkwardly, he reached for something _nice_ to say. “Maybe Wilbur’s just in a bad mood?”

Tommy huffed.

Techno cast his mind around for something else. He came up with: “You’re not annoying.” This managed to brighten Tommy up somewhat. 

“Thanks,” Tommy said, “I’m sure you mean it.”

Still, his tone was a little lighter. There wasn’t a trace of the earlier resentment.

Techno didn’t respond. He sat and watched their clothes spin around and around in soapy circles. He glanced around the laundromat to see if there was anything interesting to pay attention to. Unfortunately, there wasn’t. No one was there but Techno and Tommy.

“Techno,” Tommy said suddenly, “I’ve been meaning to ask you this.”

“Hm?”

“Why are you so angry lately?”

That took Techno by surprise.

“I’m not angry,” he said.

“Sure seems like it,” Tommy said. “The other day you shouted at Wilbur.”

Techno winced. He had shouted at Wilbur last week, although that had been because of a series of unfortunate events; a history exam the next morning, Wilbur practicing guitar in their room, the television playing outside, slipping grades in math, and all of it had grated on Techno’s nerves. He ended up snapping. Wilbur shouted back. Techno didn’t know that Tommy had heard all of that, from his small room— barely more than a closet— across the way.

“I don’t know,” Techno tried to answer, “I guess I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

“Like what?”

“Like—” Techno wondered how to put the strange feelings in his chest into words. He had been feeling weird about this for a while now, that he was coming up at the end of junior year. He would need to apply to colleges next year, and Wilbur was already starting to look at them. He wondered, sometimes, if Phil wished he was in Techno’s shoes. “Like a lot of stress about school. And homework.”

Tommy nodded sagely. “Pre-algebra is very difficult.”

Techno was taking calculus. He was a little past pre-Algebra, but he nodded along regardless.

“Fortunately Wilbur says you’re getting the highest grades,” Tommy said. 

Techno nodded. He was doing decently, and so he said so. 

Tommy hummed. He dipped his voice secretively. “Don’t tell anyone, but I think Wilbur’s a little jealous of you.”

Techno sighed.

“Wilbur’s got his own stuff going on,” Techno said firmly. “It’s okay if he’s jealous.”

And the truth was that Techno was a little jealous of Wilbur too. He was effortlessly sociable and funny. He liked making friends. He would get on phone calls with those friends and talk for hours without needing to stop. It was bewildering. Techno had a strange, damaging social anxiety surrounding phone calls. It was so terrible that he would make Phil call the pizza place on Sundays when they wanted to order from it, because Techno couldn’t bear talking to strangers. 

So Wilbur was jealous of how good Techno’s academics were; Techno was jealous of how extraverted Wilbur was. That was a fine balance to have.

The washing machines beeped, barely seconds after the other. Silence fell over them again as they transferred the clothes into the large dryers. Techno fumbled for the quarters in his pocket, inserted them, pressed start. The machine rumbled to life.

“You know,” Tommy said, because he was terrible at sitting in silence, “Phil was right.”

“Mhm?” Techno asked. “About what?”

“You are a good talker,” Tommy proclaimed. “And not half bad of a brother.”

Techno stared down at the floor and didn’t know why his face felt hot all of a sudden.

“Whatever,” he said, and his voice sounded strangled too. “Same goes for you, I guess.”

Tommy nudged his shoulder. Techno huffed a small laugh, shouldered him back.

And then they sat in silence until the dryers beeped as well.

* * *

They returned to their fourth floor apartment with laundry baskets filled with heated clothes. Wilbur had left the door unlocked, which always made Techno and Phil worry, but made Tommy smile. They burst into the cramped entrance and froze.

“Wilbur,” Tommy said, eyes wide, “Are you okay?”

Wilbur nodded. “I’m fine.”

“I only asked for you to clean your _room,”_ Techno said, glancing around. His eyes were similarly wide. “You didn’t need to clean the _entire_ damn apartment.”

“It’s fine,” Wilbur muttered, and ducked his head, “I got carried away.”

It was true. He had gotten carried away. Techno poked his head into his and Wilbur’s room as he passed and found it near spotless. Wilbur had found the ancient vacuum that Phil kept buried inside one of the closets and used it. The entire house smelled of that fresh lemon cleaner, which Wilbur had apparently used to wipe down the kitchen counters. The windows were open, allowing fresh March air to waft in through the screens. The sycamore trees, bright green with upcoming spring, waved gently in the wind outside. Techno found himself reluctantly impressed.

“I’ve just had a lot on my mind,” Wilbur explained, as Techno and Tommy headed for Phil’s room to begin folding laundry, “Cleaning is nice, you know? It’s relaxing.”

It seemed that everyone in their family had a lot on their mind. Techno allowed that information to soak in as he and Tommy set about separating all their clothes into Phil, Techno, Wilbur, Tommy. Some of it was very easy— Wilbur’s jeans were two inches longer than everyone else’s— while some of it was very difficult. Techno’s hand paused uncertainly over nine pairs of identical black socks before deciding _fuck it,_ and splitting them among the four of them. 

Wilbur didn’t help, which was fair considering how much more work he had done than his brothers. He hopped onto the unused side of Phil’s bed and critiqued Tommy’s folding technique. 

“That’s not how you fold a fitted sheet,” he said, after nearly ten minutes of silence. 

“Oh, yeah?” Tommy glared, and tossed the crumpled sheet towards Wilbur as forcefully as he could, “ _You_ do it then, dipshit.”

“Fine!” Wilbur proclaimed, and Techno had to turn away to hide his smile when it turned out that Wilbur could not fold a fitted sheet either, no matter how hard he tried.

Techno took his clean, folded pile of laundry to his room. He wondered what Phil was doing; he knew that he enjoyed working at the supermarket more than he enjoyed working at the burger place, but that didn’t mean that he necessarily enjoyed a ten hour shift on his birthday. 

Techno himself had a job, although it wasn’t much of a job at all. He worked twelve hours a week tutoring elementary school kids in basic math. It was a good job for two reasons: the first that elementary school math was the only math Techno wholeheartedly understood, and because Techno and kids got along strangely well. For someone who’s go-to joke was something about drop-kicking orphans, kids liked Techno. They got along well with him.

Speaking of math, Techno’s calculus homework was staring him straight in the face. He wrinkled his nose as he thought about working on it, but it was already four in the afternoon and Phil was set to come home by six. It would be good to try to finish everything before then. Wilbur had the same idea as him, carrying his school backpack out to the sofa. He settled into the corner with a book and a black pen. 

From there, the afternoon devolved into silence.

* * *

Sunset fell before long. 

Tommy’s head dipped, and then he nodded off against Techno’s shoulder. Wilbur’s face broke into a delighted grin when he saw. He pointed at Tommy and mouthed something. 

Techno nodded, careful not to shift, and let Tommy drool on his sleeve with only a silent face of disgust. The things Techno did for family.

Wilbur quieted the radio as well, playing Van Morrison for the last thirty minutes. He returned his attention to the novel that he had to read for Monday. Techno glanced at the clock. It was half past seven, and still no Phil. Techno wasn’t sure what to do, but a small itch of worry told him that he was an hour and a half late, and that wasn’t good. 

Techno’s math homework was finished, though Techno was certain half of it was wrong. He didn’t care much. Junior year grades rarely mattered, right? 

He turned his attention to the kitchen counter instead. On top of it was a small white box, with a red sticker. While Techno had put up with an irritated Tommy, Wilbur had gone out and spent his precious earned pocket money on four cupcakes. Each in their favorite flavor. 

_Who likes carrot cake?_ Tommy had demanded when he saw them. _That’s such a shit flavor._

 _It’s actually not,_ Wilbur replied superciliously, _Carrot cake is the best flavor, it has a wonderful flavor profile and works well with a variety of frosting flavors—_

Tommy had scowled. _Just shut up,_ he said despondently, _it’s disgusting, I’m right, you’re wrong._

Wilbur laughed, elbowed Tommy in the side, and refused to answer to Tommy’s taunts. 

That brought them to now. The four cupcakes sat on the counter innocuously. Techno could feel his own eyelids slipping shut too, courtesy of the dim light and Tommy’s warm, heavy weight against his side. 

Then there was the sound of a key in the door. 

Techno jolted awake. So did Wilbur, and Techno jabbed Tommy in the side sharply.

“Phil!” Techno whispered.

All three of them cast panicked glances at one another. Somehow, they hadn’t come up with a plan of what to do once Phil was back. Were they going to shout _h_ _appy birthday?_ Were they going to sit and say nothing and surprise him? Were they—

It turned out it didn’t matter. Phil entered, closed and locked the door behind him, and Tommy was already out of his seat, sprinting towards the entrance. 

“Happy birthday, Phil!” he shouted. 

Techno winced at the noise. Wilbur winced too. Phil, however, did not. His face split into a beaming smile. 

“Tommy!” Phil exclaimed, “I thought you forgot!”

“I would never forget,” Tommy proclaimed, “In fact, I remembered _so much_ that I got Wil and Tech to do something for you.”

Phil raised an eyebrow. “You did?”

Tommy’s boldness faded slightly.

“Well,” he said, and moved onto rambling, “I _would have,_ if Techno hadn’t woken up at one— you really should get him to wake up earlier, it doesn’t seem very healthy— and then Wilbur was a little bitch to me and wouldn't let me put on good music because Techno was asleep—”

“Sounds interesting,” Techno said, cutting him off neatly, “But Tommy’s a liar.”

Phil rolled his eyes, and Tommy’s face dropped.

“You’re _awful._ ”

“I’ve heard that,” Techno sighed, “You’ve told me that several times.”

"I mean it this time."

"Enough of him," Wilbur interjected, and pushed his way in between Techno and Tommy, "We did get something for you, though." 

Even though he had just been on his feet for nearly ten hours, the bags under his eyes were dark, and everything about him read of exhaustion, Phil brightened when he saw the three of them. It made Techno’s heart ache. He would stubbornly say the opposite if anyone asked, though.

“I cleaned,” Wilbur said, and waved a hand grandly around, “Techno did the laundry and babysat Tommy—”

_“Did not.”_

“—and I got dessert,” Wilbur finished, an ounce awkwardly, “Whenever you want it.”

Phil laughed, genuinely, and ruffled Tommy’s hair, who was clinging like a leech to his side. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s your birthday,” Techno said, “Of course we did.” 

Somewhere in the cabinet Wilbur found an unopened box of pink birthday candles from a long, long time ago. He stuck two in Phil’s cupcake and one in each of the others, the best red velvet cake that money could buy, and laughed when Phil accidentally blew out Techno’s and Tommy’s as well. 

“Twenty one,” Techno said dryly, “Are you sure you’re not planning to get absolutely wasted?”

“Absolutely not,” Phil proclaimed, “I’m going to sleep for sixteen hours and make you walk to school tomorrow.”

Tommy’s lip curled up in disgust. He said, “you’re _evil,”_ at the same time Wilbur proclaimed, “good, I won’t be stuck with Tommy for ten minutes longer than I have to be.” 

Phil laughed, and reluctantly, Techno did too. 

His mouth tasted of vanilla frosting and the flavor of home. The residual stress and guilt that always lay on his shoulders lifted with every time Phil laughed at one of his dry, monotonous jokes. Even Tommy’s screeching voice and Wilbur’s attitude couldn’t dampen this night. 

“Happy birthday,” Techno said quietly to Phil, and allowed the sound of his family’s voices to carry him away. 

**Author's Note:**

> if you enjoyed, please leave kudos/comments/subscribe to my ao3, it really means a lot!! <3
> 
> my twitter is [here](https://twitter.com/merLdies) if you want to chat!


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